Resurgam
by Intasia
Summary: The Reaper War is over. Shepard is gone and the reapers are not, and the galaxy is searching for answers. No one ever said change would be easy, but how does one adapt to becoming the very thing they fought so hard to destroy? Post-Control Ending, slight AU.
1. Chapter 1--Somnium

**Chapter 1-Somnium**

Everything was blue. Blue and bright and it hurt her eyes.

Her vision blurred, and her body was numb. For a moment, she wondered if she still existed. She could not move her limbs, but her vision was returning.**  
**

A midday sun hung in the sky, fanatically shining without a single cloud in sight. It was too bright, and she blinked. In the moment of darkness, she felt herself inhale. Then exhale. Did dead people breath?**  
**

She became aware of a soft surface underneath her, cool and slightly numbness had gone, but her limbs felt like lead. She was afraid to move—if she tried, could she? And if not, what then?**  
**

A wispy breeze stumbled upon her, picking up a stray hair and depositing it onto her eye. Absentmindedly, she drew up her hand and pushed it away. Her eyes widened in shock, and she inhaled heavily as the action registered. If she had still been uncertain about her existence, the accelerated heart rate proved her fears unwarranted.**  
**

Memory was an oily, hazy mess. She forced and pried, but whatever tendrils she had caught simply slipped through her fingertips. When she tried too hard, she was overcome by nausea and a feeling of dread. In the end, all she could recall was blue, and some sort of turmoil. Mostly just blue.**  
**

She rubbed her face. She was scared, confused, and lost. Words and theories bounced around her head, none of them comforting.

She needed answers, she decided, and with all her strength pushed herself out of a lying position, settling half-slumped over her knees and respiring heavily. She took a moment to look around. The sky was blue, as it had been before. Beneath the sky sat green trees, and on the ground there lay the verdant grass. Ahead of her, the land sloped into a hill, and atop the hill stood a figure, eclipsing the midday sun.**  
**

She squinted against the brightness. The figure was tall; thin legs curved up into a bulky torso and a fringe of spikes jutted out from its head. It faced her, standing stock still against the sunlight.

She waited several seconds for it to move, but it just stood there staring down at her. Was it even alive? Perhaps it was a statue of some sort. But then it shifted its weight to its other leg and folded its arms, decidedly looking impatient.

Her curiosity trumped her confusion, and she forced herself to her feet, taking a few slow, shaky steps. Blood rushed to her head and she stumbled, black spots clouding her vision.

She cautiously made her way over to the figure, for which her mind had given a word: turian. However, the word did not sit right, and she wondered whether it was the figure's name or a term to describe it. It eyed her and she swayed toward it, neither moving away nor coming forward.

The moment she reached it, her mouth open and ready to form a question, it turned and strode away. She bit her lip in frustration before rushing to catch up. **  
**When she reached the top of the slope, she paused, looking around in surprise.

A long and narrow field lay ahead of them, bordered by dense trees to her left and right. Far in the distance was a bluff of some sort, overlooking an endless expanse of blue sky.

Scattered across the field were people, some like her, some like the turian, and done completely alien. They formed small groups, isolating themselves from each other as if the others did not exist.

The turian continued to walk as she looked around. It cleared its throat, snapping her back to attention and she stumbled to join him.

The first group they came across was a pair of the ones that looked like her, and one more on the ground she could not see clearly. The ones she could see wore suits decorated with intricate designs over every inch of their bodies, and masks covered their faces.

One was pacing, carrying a rifle in his hands as if on the lookout. It-or he, she realized- wore a golden suit, adorned with pieces of red armor. He nodded his head at her as she walked past, and she could see his glowing eyes through the dark visor.

The other faced away from her, crouching over an inert figure. She focused her attention on some sort of device on her forearm, which cast bright orange light onto her purple suit.

The female tapped on it a few more times before the device withdrew, and the creature beneath her began to move. It made odd noises, clicks and growls, as it gathered its bearings.

She straightened, offering a hand as it tried to stand. This one was shaped like the others, but had a curved neck that ended in a bright light. As it stood, a hole in its metal torso revealed itself.

Both of them turned to face her and the turian, nodding as the red one had. She raised a hand in return as she walked away.

Next were two of her kind, without the fullbody suits. The female wore blue armor, various rifles slung across her back. She gave a plump-lipped smile as she and the turian approached, and tucked some brown hair behind her ear.

The male by her side wore a dark uniform, a smile and some stubble gracing his face. Blue light danced along his fingertips as he gave her a salute. His eyes were sad, however, and it frightened her as she walked past them.

In the same, silent manner she passed by two more of her kind. One, a dark-skinned man who sent her the same kind smile as the rest had. The other was a woman, a black and white jumpsuit covering her shapely figure. She gave a smirk, before it softened into a genuine smile.

The next three beings looked nothing like her or the turian. They were massively built, with large crests over their triangular heads (she assumed, as one was covered in elegant robes).

The smaller one, with bright eyes and brighter armor, pounded his fist against his chest in greeting. The robed one gave her a solemn nod. The largest one, with a red crest, walked in front of her, eyed her for a few moments, and then headbutted her.

She fell backwards, leaning over her knees and clutching her forehead as pain blossomed from behind her eyes. She looked up at the creature in shock.

It chuckled, and held out a hand for her. Tentatively, she offered her own, and it pulled her up with immense strength.

They continued this throughout their entire walk. A blue woman and another creature with a large head and green skin seemed to be caught in a silent argument somewhere to her left. Beyond them were two men and a large vehicle of sorts, one man tinkering with the engines in the back, and the other on top doing push-ups.

They passed a heavily tattooed woman, a blue woman in a red costume, and an unshaven man with a cap pointing excitedly at the datapad to a woman with an orange visor and lustrous metal skin. There were many more, all stopping their activities to acknowledge her in some way or other.

For the first time, she noticed how eerily silent the field was. Not a single person spoke, and the wind had died down to a whisper. She could not drive herself to break this silence, afraid she would be breaching some unspoken rule.

Who were all those people anyways? They all seemed to know her, yet she could not fabricate a single memory of any of them.

She and the turian approached the bluff. Privately, she wondered what would happen now that she was at the end of her brief journey. Would this be the beginning or the end of her experience?

The turian stopped somewhere behind her, and she walked on to edge of the cliff. The sky was blue. Blue and bright and utterly empty.

A thunderous, grating roar erupted from the earth itself. She recoiled, flinching, and when her eyes opened again the sky was no longer empty or blue.

A cityscape in the final stages of destruction lay in the far distance. Monsters of immense size picked their way through on spindly limbs. Red lights blazed from their angular carapaces. Guns fired from below, a futile attempt to halt the wraiths.

"No," she whispered, "no."

The clothing she wore earlier had transformed into a suit of black armor, displaying a red and white stripe down her arm and an N7 logo on her breastplate.

She heard gun shots right behind her, and whipped around. Blue blood stained the turian's armor, and he looked far too fatigued for a fight that had just begun. He held his assault rifle, picking off husks one by one.

The entire field had devolved into chaos, the reapers' many thralls threw themselves against her people. Dozens more poured in, two replacing each one that had been taken down. Soon, the husks were not the only ones who were falling. She could only watch. With no weapon she had no way of fighting back.

"Shepard!" Yelled the turian as the husks began to overwhelm him. Her memory broke free like water from a dam, crushing her and for a moment she felt as if she were drowning.

"Hold on, Garrus!" She cried. The thralls charged him and he slammed the butt of his rifle against them, trying to pry them off. One slashed against his face, shredding his visor and ripping a gash beside his eye. Blue blood spilled onto his colony marks, where it resided in disturbing harmony. Shepard sprinted to him, throwing her fist at the nearest husk.

The moment her fist made contact, all of the husks fell. The fighting behind them ceased, and she looked around.

The sounds of combat and the thralls' ghastly moans were no more, leaving the field silent once again. The bodies of both her adversaries and her comrades littered the green grass. "Oh, God," she whimpered.

She could still hear the reapers in the distance, though the heavy gunfire had ceased and no more explosions could be heard.**  
**

A gun cocked behind her, breaking her focus. "Garrus?" she turned,"what are you doing?" He had his rifle trained on her forehead. She held up her hands placatingly. "Stand down, it's me!" she entreated.

"You're not Shepard," he stated simply, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

**Apologies in advance for any formatting errors; I typed most of this up on my phone. **


	2. Chapter 2--What Goes Up

**Chapter**** 2-****What ****Goes ****Up**

Even ex-vigilantes are allowed to have lazy mornings sometimes. Every single one of his alarms had been deactivated the night before in preparation for his first free day in months.

Of course, he was never one to slack off, but he had been so busy lately. The galaxy was still taking baby steps to rebuild the destruction caused by the reapers, along with making sure the reapers didn't change their minds again and decide to continue their harvest.

A warm form rested in his arms, lying across his chest. She was soft and pliant against his own rigid body, and he exhaled against her hair.

The Crucible, finally completed, had been activated. It released a bright blue pulse that was transmitted across the galaxy by the mass relay network, and the reapers that were affected had stopped their attacks. The galaxy had been waiting on its toes for the destruction of the reapers. But the reapers were not destroyed, and neither was the chance that they would return to their cycle of annihilation.

The mass relays had been rendered nonfunctional by the Crucible's release, however, and prevented interstellar travel. Armies and refugees were displaced with no chance of returning home.

The communications networks had been severely damaged as well, and long-range communication had become a tool only to be used by the government or the military.

When reports of the reapers gathering around all the broken mass relays came in, an uneasiness settled over the galaxy. Then came confusion as the reapers began to repair the mass relays. Being diligent workers, they had repaired most of the relays within one month. All of the reapers nearby would congregate whenever a relay was repaired, every single one of them traveling through the matter transporters to wherever they hid.

He drowsily reached to wrap his arms around her. Confusion clouded his mind for a moment when his arms fell on thick blankets. His eyes shot open and he peeled back his covers, feeling around and wondering where she had gone. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and was about to call out her name when he remembered.

A bit over eight months ago, Shepard advanced to the Crucible, and the reapers' invasion was stopped. Whatever she'd done, it had worked, and countless lives were saved.

Shepard herself was considered KIA; they hadn't even found a body to bury.

His mandibles clicked against his face and he sat still for a moment to gather his thoughts. He had already mourned, he told himself. But that didn't mean he could stop. Where he had felt warmth moments prior, there was only hollowness and the heavy weight of grief.

In Shepard he had found an ally, a mentor, a friend, and a partner. His complementary half, in a sense. She had become such a constant presence in his life that some days it was hard to remember she was gone, forever.

There was no Cerberus to bring her back this time around.

* * *

"Hey, Garrus. Are you nocturnal now?" quipped his sister, looking up from the display.

Garrus snorted. "No, station time changed. Didn't you get the memo?" He picked up a pillow next to her off the couch and tossed it at her head.

During their attack on Palaven, the reapers had destroyed the Vakarians' residence. Garrus remembered watching it go up in flames from Menae. His home, where he had been born and raised, became a distant blip of orange on the face of the planet.

Naturally, Solana and their father had moved into his apartment on the Citadel. Though he did miss his privacy (at least the crewmen on the Normandy would stay at a respectable distance), knowing that there was someone else nearby that cared about him made the hard nights that much easier.

She batted the pillow away, letting it flop on the floor. "Any plans for today?"

"No. Did Dad already leave?"

"He left three hours ago," answered Solana, flipping to a different network on the display. "Are you alright? You seem a bit tense."

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he replied, brushing her off.

"Bad dreams?" she inquired.

"I'm _fine__, _Sol." He answered brusquely. That had come out a bit harsher than intended, he realized.

"I'd hoped getting a full night's rest would make you more relaxed," Solana murmured, her subharmonics keening sadly.

Garrus knew his sister worried for him, or else she would never accept him speaking to her in that manner. The first few weeks after the war had been incredibly difficult for him. Shepard was gone, and seeing his family reminded him of his mother-he had never even had a chance to say goodbye.

"I'm sorry," He sighed. "There's just so much left to do," he walked to the window, looking out at the ward which was steadily recovering from the damage it had sustained months ago.

Buildings which had previously been rendered unrecognizable were nearly rebuilt. New structures sprouted up from the debris of the old, which at this point had been mostly cleared away. This part of the ward had been relatively left alone; there were places on Zakera where nothing was left but charred rubble and spiraling towers of smoke.

The view saddened him as much as it gave him hope. They were recovering, yes, but many of the Citadel's inhabitants had become its refugees. Resources were stretched thin as it is, though the situation was slowly improving. He heard Solana get up behind him.

"Garrus," she began, her subharmonics humming gently, "you've done more than enough, sacrificed more than anyone could have asked," she pressed her forehead to the back of his shoulder for a moment. "There's breakfast in the fridge, I've got to get to work."

He was listening to her limp out the door-her leg had never quite recovered properly-when his omnitool began to beep urgently.

* * *

"So what is it? Klixey's or Blue Moon?" asked a female quarian with a lilting accent.

"I am deciding," replied a geth. It stood still as the quarian strode past it, leaning on a railing overlooking the Presidium below.

"You don't usually take this long to decide," she stated after a few moments, turning to face it, "are you alright?"

"I am factoring in the preferences of both you and a third party, and combining them for the projected level of enjoyment for either establishment."

"Don't worry, Garrus says he doesn't care," she stated, fiddling with the edge of her hood.

"Very well," its eyeflaps twitched, "Blue Moon: many of the staff are quarian and have shown to be tolerant of Geth based on past experiences. Also, the ambient music and lighting is likely more to your taste."

"Mmm, maybe not. I don't think Garrus likes it much," she replied, thoughtfully tapping the base of her mask.

"But you previously stated that he had no preference," complained the geth, its voice rising in indignation.

She laughed. "That's just what people say to be polite. But good job, your inflection is definitely getting better."

The geth seemed to deflate. "Thank you, Tali," it said forlornly.

Tali patted its shoulder. "There, there, Legion, lighten up...no pun intended."

It could tell she was distressed, though she concealed it well. Legion had become so well attuned to her voice and idiosyncrasies that it could determine her mood from only a few seconds of observation. The way her laugh was less breathy than usual, and the random high pitches in her tone were dead giveaways.

Legion lifted its head, attempting to increase the voltage to his headlight if only to humor her. Tali was the organic it had the greatest understanding of. It might even venture to call her a friend.

A voice spoke up from behind her. "Are you still tormenting the geth, Tali?"

She jumped. "Garrus! You snuck up on me again!" accused Tali, poking a finger at his chest.

"There is no conflict here," Legion assured Garrus cooly.

Garrus nodded, noting that the geth still did not quite understand sarcasm, and looked to Tali. "Now what was so urgent that you dragged me out here on my day off?" He asked teasingly.

She wrung her hands, a nervous habit she had never outgrown. "I'd rather not talk about this with so many people around," admitted the quarian.

* * *

Klixey's was a hole-in-the-wall diner on the fringes of the Tayseri Ward. Before the attack on the Citadel, it was virtually unknown. However, it proved to be one of the few places almost completely untouched by destruction, and nothing attracted business like a roof and all four walls intact.

It was a nice enough place that the ex-Normandy crew would gather there on occasion. Sparse indigo lighting and muted dance music, along with a bar on the far wall, made it feel like a more timid version of Purgatory. Luckily for them, it was nearly empty during some points of the day.

"About twelve hours ago, the geth intercepted a transmission," began Tali, playing with the straw on her drink. She looked to Legion.

"The transmission was not on a communication channel used by any identified organic species," it explained. "Actually, a similar transmission was intercepted approximately 8 months, 22 days, and 6 hours ago." Garrus felt his mandibles go slack. "Between then and now, no other transmissions were made."

The soft music in the background became overwhelmingly loud as they exchanged grim looks.

"The reapers," he breathed. Saying the word aloud had become taboo, and it felt uncomfortable on his tongue. As the humans say, speak of the Devil, and the Devil shall appear.

"Yes," affirmed Tali cautiously. "We haven't been able to make much of it, but the Council knows, and they're calling in some asari scientists who studied reaper code fragments during the war. Can't say I expect much from that, but it's a start."

His mind jumped to another asari scientist. "Have you told anyone else?"

"I commed Liara a bit before we met up with you. I suppose she's told Javik by now, too."

Garrus leaned back in his booth. "So whatever whatever happened eight months ago caused the reapers to stop attacking-"

"It coincided almost exactly with the activation of the Crucible," interjected Legion.

"-and now it's back again. Has there been any reaper activity lately?"

"Nothing new," answered Tali. "A few are drifting around the Shrike Abyssal, but they haven't moved since the last relay was repaired," she paused, sighing, "I hope they stay that way."

"The reapers had better not be stupid enough to continue what they started," he grumbled. In truth, the aspect of the reapers returning frightened him. They had barely made it out alive the first time, and the galaxy was still recovering. How could they hope to defeat them a second time, especially if the Crucible proved to be useless?

"It might not even mean anything," Tali contested, mostly for her own benefit, "it's been hours and the reapers haven't even moved. Maybe we're just worrying for nothing."

_With __our __luck__? _Garrus mused.

* * *

The next time she awoke, there was a distinct lack of a gun in her face. Actually, there was a distinct lack of anything.

Except for a splitting headache. She bit back a curse as she tried to sit up. Wherever she was, it was dark, cold, and humid. She blinked several times to no avail-either her eyes weren't working, or it was actually pitch black.

She tentatively tested out her limbs. Both arms functioned normally. Her legs had fallen asleep, though, and she rubbed them to restore the blood flow.

A voice, deep and mechanical, emanated from the darkness around her._"__You __are __awake__."_

She jerked, unsteadily jumping to her feet, slamming her shin against the side of whatever she had been lying on in the process.

Trying to ignore the pain in her head and now her leg, she crouched on the disturbingly soft ground and summoned her most recent memories.

There was peculiar journey across the field, all the names and faces she hazily recognized. The husks and the reapers arriving out of nowhere. And then getting shot by Garrus.

No, that didn't tell her much about her current situation. Earlier, she recalled, her last goodbye to him, _Shepard__, __I__...__Love __you __too__, _spots of blue blood spattered across his face as he leaned on their squadmate's shoulder. She watched as the Normandy took off, leaving her alone in a tangle of husks, lasers, and soldiers. Then, she ran.

Harbinger's cannons taking them all out? A deafening blast, a bright light, and screaming all around her. Then darkness, of course. Was that the last thing she remembered?

But...no. She had woken up and picked up a gun off a fallen soldier. Time seemed to slow as she limped towards the beam with a bloody hole in her side and parts her armor either melted off or painfully fused to her skin. The galaxy depended on her, and that knowledge was the force that propelled her forward.

She had made her way through the body-littered tunnels to Anderson, only to find the Illusive Man there as well, under reaper control. She remembered the whispers of the reapers' manipulation and the shadows dancing along the edges of her vision , her finger pulling the trigger on its own accord.

She'd talked the Illusive Man into a corner, giving him no quarter, and watched as he shot his own brains out. She'd dragged herself to Anderson, collapsing down next to him and watching the battle from the Citadel. She listened as he passed away.

But she was not done yet. Hackett, on the comm, had told her that there was something wrong with the Crucible, their last hope.

She remembered stumbling, severely weakened by the pain and blood loss from her wound. She did not make it, passing out on the floor before the control panel. From then on, everything had become dreamlike. When she awoke, there was a glowing blue child lecturing her about the reapers and their role as keepers of the galaxy.

Three choices, she recalled, each with their own pitfalls. But it was their only hope.

She could destroy the reapers-along with all AI's and advanced technology such as the relays. But what condition would that put the galaxy in? Resources were thin as it was, and millions of people were displaced; to get rid of the relays would have a devastating effect. And what if the Crucible affected organics as well as synthetics? The reapers would be decimated, yes, but at the cost of every living being in the galaxy.

To combine organics and synthetics, bolstering the two, would seem like a good idea-in theory. She did not want to consider the effects of permanently altering the genetic code of every living thing in the galaxy. Synthesis was out of the question, then, no matter how much of a geth-sympathizer she was.

The last both horrified her and piqued her interest.

The reapers were no doubt the most powerful force in the galaxy. Under the right command, they could prove an extremely valuable asset. They were the emissaries of millions of years of knowledge and understanding. They could serve as guardians and peacekeepers-no one would dare challenge the reapers.

At the same time, she remembered what they had done to the Illusive Man, and to Saren. Indoctrination had skewed Saren's views and planted a seed in his mind, until he became nothing but an envoy to Sovereign's will. The Illusive Man could no longer tell right from wrong, becoming as much an enemy to humanity as the reapers. Cruelest of all, the reapers had left parts of them both intact-enough to understand what was being done and to point guns at their own heads.

Would the same happen to her? The child-no, the AI- had told her that she would be free from this effect, free from the reapers' control. The situation felt like a nightmare. No matter what she chose to do, there would be dire consequences not only for her but for the entire galaxy. She knew she had to think fast, the Crucible would not remain safe forever. She limped across the catwalk, heading towards the blue light.

She'd been willing to do anything to end the war, although she would have liked to conclude it with her life intact. Nonetheless, she formulated a plan as she approached the terminal.

Step one was help the galaxy recover, she established as she gripped one of the cylinders.

Step two, she determined, was to send all the goddamned reapers into the nearest star once they were done reconstructing. She struggled not to recoil from the intensity, grabbing the second cylinders.

Everything felt like a bright blue blaze. It overloaded her senses: she tasted brightness and heard blue and felt like she was turning into a light as she lost feeling of her body. Slowly, she had slipped out of awareness.

_And __I __suppose __that__'__s __how __I __got __here__, _she reflected.

"You're a reaper?" she called out to the voice.

There was a buzzing in her veins before it replied. "_We __have __been __given __multitudes __of __titles__. '__Reapers__' __is __one __of __many__." _

_It __would __be __nice __if __I __could __actually __see __something__,_ she thought. To her shock, lights bloomed from all around her a second later. She squinted against the brightness.

Ah. She was _inside _a reaper. That made things much more pleasant. The black interior looked almost like any other ship, except for the angles, which reminded her of something far too organic for comfort. A nauseating claustrophobia washed over her.

"How connected are...you and I?" She inquired. Now was the time to find out the full consequences of her decision.

"_We __are __the __carriers __of __your __will__. __However__, __we __are __capable of __independent __thought __and __judgement__," _before she could ask, it continued, "_we __are __not __capable __of __going __against __your __will__, __as __it __betrays __our __core __functions__. __Through __us__, __you __may __experience __and __make __contact __with __the __physical __world__."_

This worried her. "I have a body, don't I? Can't I experience the world for myself?" She ran her fingers across her bare arm, noting how unfamiliar it felt to touch real flesh.

"_Before__, __your __corporeal __form __was __nonexistent-__-__a __prerequisite __for __transferring __your __conscious __self __to __our __network__. __We __endeavoured __in __providing __you __with __a __body __when __it __became __apparent __that __only __a __conscious __form __was __not __enough__."_

"So this isn't me?" She asked, feeling hollow and light headed."Am I an AI based off Shepard that only believes it's Shepard?" She recalled feeling similar after her first revival, courtesy of the Lazarus project.

"_No__. __Your __worries __are __unfounded__. __We __are __race __older __than __memory __itself__, __our __technology __is __aeons __ahead __of __your __own__. __We __are __the __pinnacle __of __both __synthetics __and __organics__. __We __have __long __bridged __the __gap __between __the __two__."_

Despite the peculiarity of being consoled by a reaper, Shepard let out a relieved breath. But there was still an odd pain in her brain that seemed to transcend her physical form.

"_Do __not __repress __us__. __Let __yourself __free__." _

Just like that, it felt as if a door was opened. She was suddenly aware of millions of forms and minds not her own, all connected to her in the most thorough way possible. The collective intelligence told her that she was inside one of the oldest reapers in existence, effortlessly drifting through space in the company of about a dozen other constructs.

"Whoa," Shepard breathed hoarsely, "I don't know what I was expecting there." The tension in her head had almost fully dissipated.

"_We __advise __you __not __to __spend __too __much __time __in __the __collective __until __you __adjust__. __The __sensory __overload __would __have __driven __any __other __creature __to __insanity__," _she clicked her tongue at this._ "__Until __you __are __adequately __practiced__, __we __will __relay __your __orders __to __all __other __constructs__." _

Shepard paced around the room until she saw what appeared to be shut door."Open this door."

The door retracted into the wall, and she found herself in a hallway that reminded her of the Collector Base. It set her on edge, and there was no reassuring weight of a gun in her hand.

"Am I the only person inside?"

"_Yes__," _ the affirmative echoed through the open hall.

She ambled through the hallway until she came across an opening. The first thing she spotted was the starry sky, and she approached carefully. For all she knew, it could be an open wall; Shepard had never heard of a reaper with a viewing area.

The glean that shone off the glass as she approached proved it was not just a massive hole. The temperature of the reaper she was perfectly fine with-had she been wearing anything, perhaps she would find it too warm. The devastating cold that came with being spaced was just about the most unappealing things she could think of at the moment.

The view was lovely, she admitted. The nearest star was one of the most massive she had ever seen, giving off a brilliant blue light. A few planets hung in orbit around it.

"What is your name?" She asked abruptly.

"_We __have __no __name__. __However__, __in __the __time __of __our __making __we __were __referred __to __as __Gerula__." _

"Gerula," she parroted. The word did not feel as alien on her tongue as she would have expected.

Shepard began to formulate plans in her head. First, she would get the necessary resources for the civilians and medical supplies for those injured in battle. After that, she could help with rebuilding what had been destroyed.

"How many days has it been since the Crucible was activated?" she inquired, "are there still reapers hanging around Earth?"

"_Undoubtedly __no__, __as __the __Crucible __was __activated __nearly __nine __months __ago__."_

* * *

**Doop. This was meant to be another short, introductory-type chapter. Unfortunately, I am awful at pacing. Also, FF squished all my italicized words together. At one point, it looked like the reaper said it had "multitudes of titties." **


	3. Chapter 3--The Drift

**Chapter 3-The Drift**

Nine months. _Shit, _nine whole months she was gone. It felt like someone had pulled the rug from under her. Like she had been left behind in the dust.

The warm air did nothing to remedy the shiver that ran down Shepard's spine.

Nine months was a long time. Three-quarters of a human year. The average human gestation period-she did not miss the irony there. It was a long enough time for a shit load of things to have happened. Especially after a near galactic genocide.

"Gerula..." she began, "...what the hell happened?"

"_Based on your thought stream, we assume you refer to the current state of the galaxy." _

She held her breath, waiting for it to continue.

"_During the period of your dormancy, the galactic civilizations entered a stage of reconstruction. Both organics and synthetics formed alliances, the likes of which we have rarely seen in any other cycles. _

"_Resources were shared and shelters provided. Many were stranded on planets not their own as we repaired the mass relays. However, instead of causing conflict as we would have assumed, ties were forged. We provided aid as well, under your direction. The majority of the constructs have been sent back to dark space, besides several which reside dormant in this system with us."_

Good, so the galaxy seemed to be getting along fine. One detail, however, struck her as peculiar.

"What do you mean by 'under my direction'? I haven't exactly been conscious for the past few months."

_"We constructed an intelligence, based off of your thoughts and memories, to control us as you would have done." _

"You have an intelligence based off of me?" she asked, bewildered."Why did you need to recreate me then?"

_"Because it was not you. Your mind is accustomed to the physical plane, and thus the transfer to a state of virtual reality did not bode well. The intelligence did function in a satisfactory manner. However, it did not possess the same emotion or depth of understanding. At its core, it was simply numbers, a nonliving code. We did not need a code. We needed a soul." _

Shepard mulled this over for a moment. She was still skeptical about their ability to conserve her 'soul'. What made her any different from the intelligence? Was she not also a being designed from Shepard's thoughts and memories? Shepard's physical remnants were gone, swallowed by the Crucible as a sacrificial lamb to the reapers. At least the Lazarus Project had her brain and body to work from. But the reapers? The most advanced machine race would have no problem creating an AI that could be whole-heartedly convinced she was the original Shepard. Transferring her mind from organic form to synthetic form and back to organic again, however, proved to be a gray area in the question of identity.

The fact of the matter was, that in form, she was not Shepard. The state of her metaphysical being, however, was debatable. Could her mind be transferred by the reapers, or was it only a representation of her mind? The hypotheses bouncing around her head served to only vex her further, and she decided to leave her existential crisis for another time.

She pressed a hand to the cool glass of the viewport. While she did not recognize the system, it did offer a certain familiarity. Shepard had spent much of her life aboard ships. She'd seen many systems in her time, and knew that countless more waited to be discovered. At least now she knew she wasn't dead. This was her universe, and it felt like home.

The light from the star outlined her hand in white, and she wondered where exactly she was. She felt so out of touch with the world.

"I need to get to the Citadel," she told Gerula, "I need to talk to the Council, to see the exact state of the galaxy myself."

_"That may not be the ideal course of action," _it informed, _"your people still fear us. Their predicted course of action would be to attack first and ask questions when they are no longer necessary." _

The corner of her lip twitched. "Yeah, that sounds about right. But there's not much else I can do, besides sending them a transmission explaining everything and hoping they decide to believe me."

_"According to your memory, the Council did not believe you when you revealed our coming. Perhaps another path you may take is to appeal to them through actions instead of verbal communication."_

"That's not a bad idea, actually," her mind flittered to the old human adage 'actions speak louder than words'. After all, trust based on words was as strong as paper: thin, strained, and bound to break.

_"If you wish to take this course of action, there is currently an opportunity to do so. A fringe colony-in the Terminus, as you would call it-is under attack. Fight off the pirates, and you will gain their trust." _

"If there's a colony under attack, why are you just sitting here?" she snapped, turning away from the viewport, "I thought you said you were supposed to provide aid!"

_"We have been helping-from a distance. We use remotely controlled spacecraft seized during the war to deliver supplies and make anonymous transmissions to your people. These craft are not suitable for battle. The constructs in this system, the only ones in this galaxy, have remained unmoving and mostly inactive since the last of the relays were repaired." _

Shepard huffed, shaking her head at its logic. When there were lives at stake, you did what you could to save them, and dealt with the consequences later.

"Well, get on it then. We have people to save." she stretched her shoulders, the anticipation of a fire fight burning through her. For all the battles she'd fought, the rush had never gone away. She was looking forward to the familiar, comforting weight of a gun in her hand.

_"_I don't suppose you'd have any armor for me, would you? It's hard to fight pirates when you're naked."

* * *

It was night-time on the Citadel. Of course, night-time was more a of mental state as opposed to a rotational one in this case. Every being needed its sleep, and it just so happened that most organics on the Citadel were diurnal. Thus, night-time was the name given to the wee hours of the Citadel's time cycle.

The lighting on the Presidium had been dimming in the illusion of a setting sun. Sunsets a universal experience, a base thing shared by all living creatures. Though there were many facets that separated one race from another, such as cultures, ideas, physical characteristics; sunsets were the single feature every home world shared. Even the geth, who were born and spent most of their time in the virtual world, could appreciate a sunset.

Legion dimmed its headlight as well, not wishing to temporarily blind its counterparts by the high power light. It ambled along behind them, taking time to observe and record. As a representative to the geth, it wanted to share its experiences with its people.

"How's work?" Tali asked Garrus cheerfully as Legion examined a small blue flower.

"Feels like I'm back at C-Sec," snorted Garrus, "thought I'd be chasing down criminals, but instead I'm stuck in an office doing paperwork. Spirits, the paperwork."

He missed his days on the Normandy. He knew then his actions were having a profound effect on the galaxy, and he was proud he could collaborate with the people who would save the world. Perhaps he was romanticizing his own memories, but hunting Cerberus and taking down reapers was much more gratifying than helping the Council with their chores.

And he was always there to cover the six of his favorite person.

Garrus wasn't sure if he would relive those days, if he were given the chance. Too much pain and stress. It was hard sleeping knowing millions were dying overnight. The uncertainty of a tomorrow plagued him, dissolving the hope he had tried so hard to cultivate.

But there was always Shepard. She was his corner stone, his pillar of strength. Shepard was a leader that transcended actions, who commanded hope and faith, in her abilities and one's own. It was ironic, he thought, what had blessed him before now haunted him today.

Tali hummed thoughtfully, breaking him from his reverie. "I didn't know Spectres had to do paperwork. Actually, I thought the whole point was that you wouldn't be burdened by all this bureaucratic stuff."

"I thought so too. It's not even doing much goo-"

The beeping of their omnitools cut him off. Garrus pulled up the interface and read, his blood running cold. He shared a look with Tali, whose glowing eyes widened under her mask.

Legion spoke first. "The old machines have awoken."

"I guess that means we report to the council," breathed Tali.

"And on my day off, too," Garrus growled, grateful that the others couldn't hear the anxious tone in his subharmonics. It seemed like the universe was just not ready to give him a break.

* * *

Gunshots echoed around the courtyard. A civilian fell to the ground, her pistol rattling as it bounced across the cobblestone.

Several armored forms advanced across the courtyard, which was now littered with the corpses of the colony's pathetic attempt at a militia.

A small figure huddled behind an over-sized plant pot. The pirates were getting closer and closer, but she did not dare take the chance of leaving cover. If they saw her, it was all over. Of course, if she didn't move, they'd have her cornered. She heard footsteps approaching, and realized that it was too late to take any other course of action.

A batarian in mismatched red and yellow armor found her first. "Hey, I found a-" she cried out as a shot rang out and gore burst from his head. The body collapsed beside her.

"Shit, we got a sniper!" She heard the beating of footsteps as the pirates scrambled to find cover.

She covered her head as several shots were fired. Seven thuds, she counted. Seven pirates dead-that was all of them in this area. She cautiously peeked around the corner.

There was a thump behind her and she screamed. She whipped around to see a tall figure outfitted in dark, menacing armor.

"Hey, whoa, it's okay!" the figure assured her, holding up its hands placatingly, "I'm on your side."

"What are you?" whimpered the little girl. She knew what normal armor looked like, and that was definitely not it. The creature's armor-if it could be called that-looked more like some sort of chitinous shell, with an eerie skin-like texture.

The figure reached up to its head, undoing the clasps on its helmet and pulling it off, revealing the face of a human woman. The woman smiled, offering the girl a hand.

"See? I'm one of you. My, ah, friends and I are here to help."

The girl looked to her with wide eyes. She tentatively reached up, the woman's larger hand encompassing her own.

"Where can I take you?" Asked the woman, eyes darting left and right for any stragglers.

"T-the city hall," the girl whimpered.

* * *

Gideon's Grace, as Shepard later would find out, was a relatively new human colony in the Terminus. It was mostly occupied by farmers, with a small research center in the valley which studied the planet's rich flora. There was nothing outstanding about it. But then again, that never really mattered to the pirates.

Shepard ran across the rooftops, sniper rifle in hand, observing the battle field. She paused for a moment to aim at a pirate who had snuck past the defense line. A fountain of blood erupted from his head.

She estimated about forty pirates left in total, a much larger force then she'd expected, considering most of the others had turned tail when the reapers arrived.

As it had turned out, one of the reapers carried a small platoon of troops. Marauders, mostly. They were scattered across the town, slowly but surely drawing fire away from the colonists and taking down the pirates.

Using the reaper thralls as her own footmen disturbed her to no end; these were creatures that were previously conscious beings like herself. They'd had likes, dislikes, _families. _To see them reduced to mindless troops, active only under her mental command, felt wrong in countless different ways. Their identities had been paved over with default physical features and the loss of free will. She made a mental note to ask Gerula if they could be turned back to their original forms.

Shepard leaped off the roof, smacking a very surprised pirate with her rifle. Her shields twanged as the others opened fire. She ducked behind a crate to allow them to regenerate.

Her armor, Gerula had told her, was fashioned out of a failed skin weave they had been developing her her. It reminded her of the armor based off Collector technology she'd seen at a shop on the Presidium; flexible, pliant, and eerily organic. It fit like a second layer of skin, even over her undersuit. The kinetic shielding, though, was lovely. The reserves lasted far longer than any other armor she'd owned before.

She emerged from cover, charging at the nearest pirate. She slammed the butt of her rifle into his helmet, and he crumpled to the ground.

She advanced to the next pirate, who drew a knife in one swift movement and ran towards her. Shepard caught her arm and forced her down, bringing a knee up to the woman's helmet. She went limp, either dead or unconscious.

In the corner of her vision, Shepard saw a pirate retreating into a building. A familiar sign hung over it, riddled with bullets and tilting to one side, but still recognizably reading 'City Hall'. Her heart skipped a beat. The colonists!

She sprinted after him, bounding up the stairs. The door was locked, a red uninteractive interface greeting her. Shepard cursed; she didn't have an omnitool to hack the damn thing, so she settled for prying it open.

Either her suit had augmentations, or the reapers had given her super strength, she realized as she easily forced the door apart with a loud screech. Light poured over dozens of the dirtied, wide-eyed faces of the colonists.

The little girl she had saved earlier was now caught in the hold of a pirate, who tightened his grip at her whimpers. He had his gun trained on Shepard.

Shepard advanced slowly, a silent threat in each step.

"Don't come any closer!"

There was a shot, a cry, and a thud as a body hit the ground.

_"No!" _

* * *

"I want minute-by-minute-no, second-by-second reports!"

"Ma'am, we're entering the atmo and it looks like the reapers have already landed."

"Can you tell the damage?"

"Negative, ma'am."

The human councilor slumped in her chair. Terminus colonies getting attacked by pirates or slavers was not new business. The reapers, however, were an unfamiliar addition.

"We should be sending out a larger force," growled Garrus, arms crossed as he watched the vidfeed on the wall.

The councilor sighed in defeat. "I would like that too, but we send in any more then a few frigates and the Terminus declares war. We were lucky we had allies in the area a few hours ago when the reapers decided to wake up."

"These are _reapers_," argued Garrus, "This is more important then sitting around, worrying about getting the Terminus angry over us saving their asses."

"I realize that, but I just can't send in an army. There's a reason the government doesn't regulate colony protection. It's not because we're soulless, awful people who don't care about our kinsmen getting picked off by pirates, it's because we _can't. _Our hands are tied."

The door slide open and Tali stepped in with Legion on her tail. "Okay, I got a team on their trail, too"

"The geth will continue to monitor transmissions as well," offered Legion.

There was an explosion and their heads snapped to the vidfeed.

"We're u-nder att-ack," the transmission periodically fuzzed out, and the signal widget flashed red.

"The reapers? Get out of there!" cried the councillor, jumping up from her seat.

"N-ot the r-rrrreapers-ss. P-rates-" the camera switched to a frigate in the distance, a crimson firebird painted across the side. It fired a cannon, and the vidfeed went blank, a 'lost signal' message blinking on the screen.

The human councillor exhaled shakily. "That insignia-the red bird. Do you know what it's for?"

"No, I don't recognise it." Garrus drew his browplates down. In all the time he had spent on Omega, he had never seen a group that used a red avian as their crest.

Tali spoke into her omnitool. "Fall back, there are hostiles that aren't the reapers." She looked up. "It's a survey team, they're not combat-ready."

* * *

Shepard cursed. To say that hadn't gone as she'd expected would be an understatement.

It was silent except for the reticent dripping of blood on the tiled floor. It felt like some sort of still from a dramatic action vid.

The pirate was dead, lying on the floor with his head at an awkward angle. Shepard was protectively curled over the little girl. Her arm was numb and she trembled from the adrenaline.

A shot from point-blank was usually something she chose to avoid, but like hell she was going to let a little girl take the bullet. Of course, Shepard had been counting on the pirate shooting her before she was in arm's range. Her shields would have taken care of that.

However, a shot from less than a foot away would've already been past her barriers. Shepard cursed her own irresponsibility. If it weren't for luck, armor, and bad aim, she would be dead. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was surprised that she managed to survive this far with her habit of reckless abandon.

"Sarah!" A young man with dusty brown hair pushed past the crowd of people. The little girl lifted her head. He stopped a few feet away from them, holding his arms open. "Sarah, come here!"

She looked up at Shepard with red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you."

Shepard grinned behind the helmet. "Don't worry about it."

Sarah untangled herself from Shepard and threw herself into the young man's arms. An old man approached Shepard, a hand behind his back. He held himself tall, like a leader.

"Who are you?" was the first thing he said.

Shepard blanked for a moment. She couldn't exactly introduce herself as _the _Shepard. Hell, she didn't even know if she wanted people to know who she was. Shepard was considered a hero, a leader who united races that had been at odds for centuries. Whatever she was now would not reflect that.

"No name," she muttered, her voice distorted by her helmet, "not important."

She realized now that she had absolutely no idea as to how she wanted the galaxy to see her. Would she be the new leader of the reapers? Could she be Shepard again, or would they view her as a traitor? She allied herself with the reapers intending to help the galaxy. She hadn't considered what it would have meant for her as a person.

Shepard wondered what the Normandy crew would think of her. For years they had worked to end the reapers, once and for all. What would they say when they learned that she chose to control them when she had the chance to destroy them? Cold dread rose in her stomach, inching its way into her lungs as she took a deep, shuddering breath. What would Garrus say? Would he even recognize her as Shepard?

Her heart wrenched at the thought. For the first time since she awoke, she regretted her decision. Had she chosen wrong?

She realized the bitter irony in what the Catalyst had told her that she would lose all she had. She had assumed it simply meant her corporeal form, which she was prepared to give up. But losing her identity was something she had forgotten to factor in.

The old man eyed her questioningly, but she did not relent. "Alright then, _what_ are you?"

This was a question she was more prepared for. "The new leader of the reapers."

Gasps resonated from around the room.

"Someone, kill it!"

"No! I saw the husks, they were killing the pirates!"

"They're different now?"

"Yes," spoke the young girl from before-Sarah, "they're good now." She smiled weakly at Shepard, who nodded graciously in return.

"The reapers _are_ different now," she explained, ignoring the shouts of disbelief. "They won't harm you anymore, now that I'm in control."

With that, she turned around and stepped through the doorway. _I should probably rehearse what I say beforehand. Dramatic exits won't work for everything. _She could still hear the hum of discussion behind her, and there were no gun shots so she assumed everything was alright.

It was night-time outside, and the massive, shadowy forms of the reapers blotted out the stars as they landed off in the distance.

She held down a button on the side of her helmet as she jogged down the stairs. "Everyone taken care of?"

"_All enemies eliminated, and all ground forces are being collected," _answered Gerula through the comm, "_we await you on the northern point of the settlement."_

Shepard snorted. "Don't worry, I see you."

"_You are injured, do you require assistance?"_

"No it's, ah," God her shoulder hurt. The adrenaline had worn off and now she was finally starting to feel the wound. The armor had taken the brunt of the damage, but there was only so much protection an inch or two of armor could offer. She didn't have any medigel on hand to stem the bleeding, either. Her head spun and her vision tilted. "Actually, yeah, pickup would be nice."

Shepard plopped down on the ground next to a crate, holding a hand to her shoulder. She tilted her head back, musing over how lovely the stars looked on this planet.

* * *

**Thanks for all the feedback :)**

**Garrus and Shepard will probably meet next chapter (ABOUT TIME RIGHT?)**


	4. Chapter 4--Roads Untravelled

**Chapter 4-Roads Untravelled**_  
_

_"It seems as if the incident in the Terminus colony Gideon's Grace was not an isolated one. The reapers have been sighted in other parts of Terminus systems, either providing protection or aid. _

_Just today, two reapers served as escorts to a civilian ship traveling through pirate space. The people on board were apparently not aware of the reapers' presence, as all viewports were covered as a safety precaution, and the reapers kept their heat emissions masked. Still, the pilots did wonder why the pirates would close in, only to turn tail a moment later. They had their answer once they reached safe space and opened their viewports to see the reapers that had been trailing them._

_The total number of reapers which have returned is unknown, but it is estimated to be around a dozen, which was the number of previously derelict reaper constructs drifting around the Shrike Abyssal only two weeks ago. _

_Reports have also come in of a figure claiming to be the new leader of the reapers. Most of the evidence is word of mouth or amateur video, so most details are largely unconfirmed. However, most of the reports agree on its ability to control reaper forces. For more information, visit our extranet site. _

_Coming up next, an organization nicknamed 'The Tikash' due to their logo's resemblance to a bird native t-" _

The turian councilar set the remote down on his desk, shaking his head. "All this talk of a new leader has driven people into a frenzy," the other councilors nodded their agreement."Half of them want us to destroy the reapers, and half of them want us to form an alliance."

"What are you going to do about it?" inquired Garrus. Tali shifted beside him, bowing her head in thought.

He was hesitant to believe the reports at first. The reapers? _Helping _people? News coverage in the Terminus was sketchy at best, and he was more inclined to believe there was some sort of unified conspiracy going on. But the accumulation of these incidents, along with live vidfeeds and reliable reports provided by the quarians and the geth aided in the legitimacy of these claims-which only raised more questions.

"Actually, that's why we brought you three here," said the human councillor, motioning to him, Tali, and Legion, "you have the most experience dealing with the reapers, so we wanted your opinion."

"In my opinion, we should've already blown the reapers thirteen ways to hell. But the Terminus is in our way, and they're sure as hell not going to let us help them," retorted Garrus.

"Actually," began Tali, "Legion and I were talking about this a few days ago. We think that we should try to make contact with the leader."

A silence fell across the room.

Garrus stared at her, taken aback. There weren't many details on the leader-a few vids and eyewitness accounts were the only proof of its existence. It's not as if he hadn't entertained the thought of allying with the leader; but that's just what it had remained, a thought born of desperation. Either way, the idea of reasoning with the reapers was comical at best.

He held his mandibles tight against his face as Tali continued speaking. "The geth would be able to send them a transmission, and we could set up a meeting in a safe area?"

"How do you know they're not still trying to harvest us?_" _he prodded.

"Just think about it," she pleaded, "maybe that's what the Crucible was meant to do; not destroy the reapers, but give them a new leader, turn them good! This never happened with the protheans."

Before Garrus could argue, the asari councillor spoke up. "I was considering the same thing. The reapers could have attacked us by now. Their forces are more than sufficient, and we could barely dent them during the war. But why haven't they yet?"

"It looks like the reapers are trying to get on our good side," mused the human councillor, "I mean, there are stories of the leader saving whole colonies and taking bullets for little girls. This doesn't sound like the old reapers."

Garrus exhaled sharply. Nothing made sense anymore. "All of you were on the Citadel at the time of the attack. You weren't there on Palaven, Earth, Thessia...You haven't experienced everything the reapers are capable of."

"We know what happened," said the asari councillor, a tired, solemn look crossing her face, "and now the victims of the war are looking to us for the answer of whether or not the reapers will return. We need to find out-for them."

The salarian councillor continued for her. "The reapers are exhibiting peaceful behaviour for the first time in known history. Based on our knowledge of the protheans, a ceasefire such as this one never occurred. I agree with Ambassador Zorah, it may be possible that it is the effect of the Crucible."

Perhaps he was looking at this the wrong way. The reapers were machines, easily programmable beings. They did not have their own personal vendettas. The need to exterminate every living creature was a code, not a want. The Crucible, meanwhile, was a massive creation capable of the unknown-could giving the reapers a new leader, and therefore a new directive, be that unknown?

He tried to ignore the niggling thought that maybe this was his own, selfish way of believing Shepard's sacrifice was not in vain.

"Fine, invite the leader. Just make sure they don't bring the big guns to the Citadel. Arrange a pick-up out of system, and tell them to keep the constructs away," he suggested, "if they're up for a diplomatic meeting, then they shouldn't have a problem with it."

"That's a good idea," Tali quietly affirmed as the Councillors discussed amongst themselves.

"That's why I'm the Spectre," he joked, mandibles splayed in a grin. "And you, miss ambassador? That was...quite the proposal."

"Sorry about that," she squirmed, wringing her hands, "it wasn't even a serious idea before, didn't think it would come up..."

"It's alright. Problems don't get solved by thinking inside the box."

Tali tilted her head questioningly.

"Human expression, it means by convention," he explained. She nodded, and turned back to the Council, who were conversing among themselves.

Garrus couldn't bother to listen to the Council's quibble. Truthfully, he felt detached from the whole thing. Either the reapers really had changed, or a new harvest was about to begin. If the latter were to come true, than he knew they would fight a losing battle. Shepard was gone, and the Crucible was useless. He realized now how much he had depended on her for hope and encouragement. With her gone, he felt like he was back at the safe house in Omega, running on stims and delaying an inevitable end.

Although if the worst did come to pass, at least Shepard wouldn't have been alone long.

"It is decided," announced the asari councillor, snapping him from his thoughts, "we will arrange for a peaceful conference with the head reaper, to find out its intentions and hopefully broker peace."

"Spectre Vakarian," spoke the turian councillor, "You'll act as a diplomatic emissary for the first meeting with the reaper leader," oh shit, "you will be tasked with escorting it to and from the meeting, along with answering any questions it has. So long as they fall outside the realm of confidentiality, of course."

Garrus nodded reluctantly. Well, he supposed this was better than getting buried in paperwork.

* * *

The reaper collective was like nothing else.

Every reaper was a nation in itself, thousands, if not millions, of unified minds singing in complete harmony. Every mind kept its own traits and characteristics, and in conjunction all of them worked as a sort of consensus. A reaper was still an individual, in a way. All of the minds and processes worked together to give an identity and maintain unity, while still keeping partial individuality. A single mind was its own, but combined with all the others it became a small part of a singular being. Because of the sheer volume of thought processes and streams, staying in the collective for prolonged periods of time gave her a killer headache.

But man, was it awesome. As a human, Shepard was limited to the senses and sensations of her own body. In the collective, however, she could share with the constructs. She could see what each one of them saw. It reminded her of Liara's set up back on the SR2-many, many displays, each showing an individual picture. And she could choose to zoom in on any one. She could put herself in the mind of any construct, moving when it moved, sensing what it sensed, and feeling its thoughts run parallel to her own. Even the ones who lay deep in dark space-though their connection was fractionally weaker.

Shepard felt a jolt as every reaper in the system experienced the same thing: an information burst, sent by the geth. The string of numbers and symbols that formed the code were undecipherable to her, but the reapers understood it perfectly fine. Her curiosity peaked and she chose Gerula to share the information with her.

Its thoughts streamed into hers. Her surprise echoed across the collective, and she disconnected before she could cause anything dramatic to happen.

"Well, I guess this is it," Shepard laughed nervously. Still, excitement flooded through her. She would return to the Citadel after all this time, and meet the , needling guilt plagued her anticipation. She'd been so keen on distancing herself from the world, especially from the people who had been close to her. Now that Shepard was getting the chance to return to civilization, she realized what a coward she was.

She was afraid, perhaps ashamed, of revealing herself. To them, Shepard had been dead for nine months. Abruptly returning, and with the reapers no less, would feel be like a stab in the back to them. She was Shepard, yes, but not the Shepard they had known and loved. It would be unfair to them to tear down the image they had of her.

Although, it would be unfair for her to hide herself as well.

_That's a bridge I'll cross when I get there, _she thought. She could not decide what to do until she saw the effect her death had on them.

The same would apply to Garrus, she made herself promise. He'd always had Shepard's back, and with a pang of remorse she realized that she would still love him, whether or not he was aware of her existence.

Shepard missed him-a lot. Perhaps she had gotten too comfortable, too complacent with their relationship. Too used to having him around. It was so simple to relax and pretend that they could last forever with no troubles, and it was the one selfish thing she had granted herself. She'd forgotten how easily one could lose everything.

Gerula's rumbling voice snapped her back to attention. _"They asked that you do not bring extra forces. Is this acceptable?" _

"I wouldn't be worried. If they try anything funny, I'll sic a reaper on them," replied Shepard, "can you send a message back? Tell them the conditions are fine with me, but I'd like to keep one construct in-system."

_"Is that all?" _

"Yeah." Shepard checked her reflection in the viewport. Her hair had gotten longer, and her complexion perhaps more gaunt, but otherwise she looked the same. Yet the sensation of her fingers gliding across her scalp felt almost detached. It was surprising how unfamiliar one's own body could feel.

She straightened out the wrinkles in her undersuit, and moved across the room to retrieve her armor, which lay strewn across the floor. She slipped into the greaves first so she wouldn't have to bend over with a chestplate. Then came her gauntlets and her arm and shoulder covers. She snapped on her chestplate, and picked up the helmet.

It glared back at her with wide blue eyes, the only distinguishable facial features. The back curved into wicked points, and she supposed if she ever needed a weapon, she could simply slip off her helmet and bludgeon people to death with it. Nasty and brutish, but it would get the job done.

She slid on the mask and looked across the room. Her reflection in the viewport was more familiar now, she realized with a jolt.

* * *

"Well, I think it's the dumbest, most suicidal idea I've ever heard!"

Solana was incensed, naturally. She believed that there came a point where too much was asked of an individual, and that point had been reached.

"Well, in my defence, it wasn't my idea," Garrus countered, mandibles flaring in a smirk.

Solana rapped his head with a knuckle. "You're trying to bargain with the reapers, it doesn't matter whose idea it was." She bumped his shoulder. "It's suicide."

"Solana..."

"Don't do it," she urged him, looking him in the eye.

In his mind, her plates lightened and aged, and her eyes took on a gentle sheen. She'd always looked more like their mother.

He swallowed. "Solana, please_. _Everything will be fine," he brushed her crown with the back of his hand. "And if I die, the apartment goes to you."

"_Garrus,"_ she hissed, "not the time for your pitiful attempts at humor!"

"I'm hurt, Sol," he feigned, pressing a hand over his heart. He moved to his weapons cabinet, extracting a compacted sniper rifle. "How's work?"

Solana sighed. "You're trying to change the topic."

Garrus screwed on the extended barrel. "What? I can't genuinely be interested in my sister's life?"

"Spirits, I hope not," she snorted, "stay out of my life."

"Are we teenagers again, Sol?"

"Feels like it."

Garrus crouched to fetch some heat sinks from the bottom shelf. "Let me try again. How was work, sweet sister of mine?"

She inclined her head in a show of exasperation. "We got a whole lot of new refugees because of that new Terminus gang."

"Oh, the Tikash," said Garrus, his mind flipping back to the painted red bird on the ship that had attacked the councillor's men. "Yeah, they've been giving us trouble too."

"They're attacking a bunch of colonies on the fringe of the Traverse-not quite Citadel protected space, so we can't do anything about it, but not quite the Terminus, so your reaper buddies can't help them either."

"They sound like asses."

"Oh, they are," her mandibles fluttered and she stared out the window in thought. "There are rumors of them starting a Terminus alliance. Do you know anything about that?"

Garrus paused in surprise. "No, I didn't. Where did you hear that from?"

"Here and there, really, it's just small talk."

"Well, you know the Terminus. A trillion guns only pointed at each other."

"Yeah," Solana replied, "they wouldn't put their differences aside for anything but a fist fight. I hope."

* * *

They could hear the airlock hissing from behind the door as the pressure stabilized. The guards kept their rifles trained on the entrance, their fingers nervously twitching on the triggers. Great, one slip, and he'd have a diplomatic nightmare on his hands. He himself felt rather apprehensive-perhaps a bit excited, as well-at the fact that the head reaper stood on the other side of a thick metal door.

The door slid open and Garrus was, well, surprised. He had seen the leader a few times on the extranet; it was a thin, unisex figure, though decidedly more feminine in form, resembling either a human, drell, batarian, or perhaps an asari (although one witness claimed it had the face of a human woman).

But seeing it in person, he realized it was much... smaller than he'd expected. It had the same dark armor and glowing eyes, but it lost some of its intimidation when he realized it was several inches shorter than he. Its eyes swept the room, stopping when they came across him. _Perhaps I spoke too soon, _he thought, shifting uncomfortably under its bright blue scrutiny.

It carried no weapons besides a sniper rifle slung on its back, which would have to be given up before it entered the tower. He signaled for the guards to drop their weapons."Please, step inside," he said, breaking the silence.

It took a tentative step, eyes fixed on him.

"The Council asks that you move your reaper farther away from the mass relay to prevent any...conflict with ships passing by.

It momentarily broke eye contact to nod. The ship trembled as the reaper undocked.

"Now, follow me and I'll take you to the lounge. Would you like anything to eat?" He asked as they walked across the deck, feeling a bit ridiculous. Reapers didn't eat...did they?

It shook its head, and took a seat in front of the viewport.

"I'll be in the cockpit if you need me," he said, and strode away.

* * *

Garrus. Of all the people, how the hell did it end up being Garrus? Shepard didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Perhaps both, the situation was pretty funny in a cruel way. She felt an overwhelming urge to bash her head against the wall. Garrus!

She was doing well up until now, thinking she could simply avoid the trappings of her old life. After all, what could happen on a brief trip to the Citadel and back? She'd thought herself into a corner, by the looks of it. What was she to do? Rip off her helmet and say, hey, Garrus, I know you though I was dead but I'm not. Also, I control the reapers now too!

Shepard stretched her limbs, releasing a strangled groan and likely spooking the hell out of the serviceman by the door. Things always get more complicated. She barely trusted herself to speak at the moment, relying on nods and shakes. Formulating complete sentences was likely out of the question. That meant no classic silver-tongued Shepard-style speeches.

It was miserable, really. She torn between being Shepard and hugging the damn turian, and being the reapers' leader and doing, well, not that. She was worried that sooner or later she would let something slip, and she wasn't sure whether it'd be a good thing or a bad thing.

It had been easy to hide away in the Terminus and pretend like her previous life was over, that everything she knew and loved was gone. But everything wasn't gone-in fact most of it was the same. Returning to her old life, even reopening old wounds, was a tempting idea.

Shepard was a reaper now, though. Not the Shepard from before. She feared they would all look down on her with disgust and hatred, and concealing her identity would prevent her from ever finding out if it were so. It was also completely cowardly and uncharacteristic of her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, breathing slowly.

When she opened them again, the Citadel had appeared in the viewport. Even after all this time, it still managed to take her breath away.

* * *

**Happy Thanksgiving everyone!**

**Also, for future reference, which do you prefer: Ashley or Kaidan?**


End file.
